


Take It Away

by fuzipenguin



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: BDSM, Bloodplay, Bondage, M/M, Other, Painplay, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-08-31 01:40:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8558248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzipenguin/pseuds/fuzipenguin
Summary: Starscream ends up in Vortex's hands with Megatron's instructions of 'hurt him'. In doing so, Vortex discovers some interesting things about Starscream.





	

     “Now... are you gonna tell me what I wanna know?” Vortex purred, pulling hard on the chain his hands were wrapped around. The Neutral squealed in pain as the system of bindings wound tighter, cutting into already hypersensitive sensory clusters scattered across his body.

     Before he could reply, the door to the interrogation room flew open, letting in a cacophony of sound. Megatron strode through the doorway, dragging a wildly flailing set of limbs and wings behind him. The Decepticon leader was growling aggressively, the sound almost, but not completely, droning out a shrill voice pleading for leniency.

     Vortex took a step back from his table, idly wondering what Starscream had done now.

     Megatron came to a halt, observing the trussed up Neutral. A glowing fusion canon rose up and in the next second, the mech’s head disappeared in a puff of vapor. His spark chamber followed.

     “I wasn’t done with that yet,” Vortext muttered petulantly, taking a few more wary steps backwards as Megatron dragged Starscream closer. “And those were brand new ropes.”

     “He knew nothing. You were just playing with him,” Megatron snapped, ripping the graying mech’s body off the vertically inclined table and throwing his second in command at it. Starscream bounced off the surface and immediately turned around, wings tucking in close and low to his back.

     “Please, Lord Megatron, I did not mean...”

     Megatron backhanded the Seeker, dazing Starscream enough so that he sagged against the table when Megatron forced him around again. “Tie him down!” the warlord barked, glaring over his shoulder.

     Vortex rushed to comply. His coding demanded it, but beyond that, even Vortex could tell that Megatron was in no mood for anything other than complete obedience.

     “What do you want me to find out, my Liege?” Vortex asked, binding the flier with quick and sure hands. Starscream shook the entire time, plating clamped down tight. Vortex’s irritation from his plaything being dispatched was starting to fade in light of this new challenge. He’d never had Starscream under his hands before. Vortex bet he would be able to produce the most delightful noises from the melodramatic Seeker.

     “Nothing,” Megatron snarled. “I just want you to punish him. Hurt him. Keep him out of the skies for at least a week!”

     With that, he whirled on his heel and departed, taking his frenzied energy field with him. The door slammed shut behind him and Vortex stared at it, nonplussed. Megatron wasn’t even going to watch?

     Oh, well. An audience was nice, but Vortex certainly didn’t need one, especially with the simplistic parameters Megatron had set forth.

     Vortex turned to survey his patient. White and red wings fluttered with every one of Starscream’s rapid ventilations. His hands gripped the edges of the table, helm turned away from Vortex.

     Well, that simply wouldn’t do. He liked to see his victim’s faces, especially if he was truly interrogating them. Normally, he wouldn’t even have them on their front as the threat of pain to the interface array or spark chamber was highly effective. But a flier’s wings… Vortex had had some air frames in the past who given up all they knew only when those appendages had been threatened.

     Starscream was by far the best flier the Decepticon army had. So Vortex had to be careful – obey Megatron’s orders to punish Starscream, but leave no lasting damage beyond a week’s repair time. That shouldn’t be too difficult; he didn’t often get a lot of air frames on his table, but he’d had enough.

     Vortex’s claws flexed as an anticipatory tingle swept through him. This was going to be fun!

     He stepped up to Starscream’s side, caressing the back of his helm and causing the other mech to flinch. Vortex ignored it, transforming his face mask aside, and ex-venting a hot puff of air against the back of Starscream’s neck.

     “Welcome to my world, Winglord.”

\--

     Vortex was honestly a little surprised by the lack of sounds. He’d expected shrill threats, or screamed pleas, but all he got was either stoic silence or muffled little whimpers. Which, quite frankly, was no fun at all.

     Still… he’d only just begun.

     Vortex took a step back, flicking droplets of energon off his fingers. He surveyed his patient, noting the shake in Starscream’s legs. The mech had been balanced on the very tips of his pedes for the past two hours. Sharp hooks were wedged in the transformation seams on the sensitive underside of Starscream’s wings. Chains led from the hooks up and over the edge of the reclined table; on the other side if it, they were attached to heavy weights which just barely rested on the floor.

     If Starscream placed his feet flat, the chains would dig into his wings, threatening to split the armor plates apart. He had stood like that at first, but hadn’t lasted longer than a few minutes before raising himself up to teeter precariously on his pede tips. He had no support from the table only inches away from his ventrum; Vortex had placed a stripe of short, electrified spikes between it and Starscream’s cockpit. Every now and then Starscream’s strength faltered and Vortex would hear the scrape of metal against glass before Starscream could find his balance again.

     Vortex walked over and surveyed his rack of tools on the wall. After a moment of consideration, he grabbed his whip and the tiny, thin edged energy knife which was his favorite for optics. He returned to his patient, observing Starscream’s optics following his motions with a weary gaze.

     “Let’s take things up a notch, whaddya say?” Vortex asked, brandishing the knife in front of Starscream’s face. The second in command merely shut his optics and tensed.

     “Get it over with,” he rasped.

     “Oh, no. That’s not how this works. I rush, and I don’t get what I want,” Vortex replied, sidestepping so that he faced Starscream’s back squarely. He surveyed the wide wingspan; where oh where to begin?

     “There’s nothing to tell you,” Starscream muttered.

     Vortex placed the knife tip against the top of Starscream’s left wing, close to his shoulder, and drew the blade down in a long, superficial slice all the way to the bottom edge. That got a protesting whine.

     Muuuuch better.

     “I don’t want your words,” Vortex replied idly, making another parallel slice a finger’s width away from the first cut. This one was deeper, and drops of energon immediately welled up and began trickling down the expanse of white, staining it blue.

     “I don’t care about words, Winglord. Not from you. Not. One. Bit,” Vortex purred, emphasizing each word with a shallow stab of the knife. “You’ll see. You’ll give me what I want.”      His claws lightly traced the glyphs of Vortex’s name across Starscream’s plating, using the mech’s own energon. Then he sliced over them, obscuring them with blade and fluids both.

     “What… what’s that?” Starscream hissed, the tremble in his legs worsening.

     Vortex merely chuckled, getting into the rhythm of repetitive slicing. He almost didn’t even have to look to keep the lines parallel. “You’ll see,” he promised, a particularly deep cut making Starscream cry out softly. “I’ll show you.”

\--

     It took Vortex an embarrassingly long time to realize that Starscream was arching his wings into each pass of Vortex’s blade. It was subtle and if it had been anyone else but him, they might have missed it. But Vortex knew pain responses quite intimately; he knew flinches and thrashes, screams and cries. And Starscream was definitely flinching alright, but not away.

     Once he realized it, Vortex stepped back from Starscream and stared in astonishment at the other mech’s back. It was covered in artful cuts and tears, energon flowing in thin rivulets to the floor. His wings were even worse. Vortex purposely had made his slices much deeper on those wide appendages.

     Every inch of Starscream was trembling. Some of the slices were uneven, much to Vortex’s dissatisfaction, because of the minute motion. He suddenly reached forward and dug the tip of the knife into one of the more shallow cuts, making it deeper.

     Starscream’s head arched back, his voice spiraling up into a scream. It warbled and faded, ending in a whispered, ‘please’.

     Wiggling the blade, Vortex stepped forward so that his ventrum was flush against the flier’s back. “Please, what, Starscream?” Vortex drawled. “You know… I haven’t heard you say ‘stop’. Not once.”

     Starscream’s ventilations stalled for a few telling seconds before they started back up again. “What… what’s the point? You have your orders.”

     “Mmm. What’s the point indeed,” Vortex murmured, withdrawing the knife only to plunge it deep two inches to the right. Starscream jerked in place, the sound of his denta grinding together music to Vortex’ audials. And now that they were as close as lovers, Vortex could feel the minute swivel of Starscream’s hips in response to the stimulus.

     Making a snap decision, Vortex drew back, leaving the knife lodged in Starscream’s left wing. One by one, Vortex removed the hooks from the underside of Starscream’s wings, prompting an odd little sigh out of the mech. As soon as the chains were tossed aside, Vortex pulled on Starscream’s shoulders, bringing the flier’s heels back down flush against the floor.

     “Wha…what are you doing?” Starscream asked warily.

     “Testing a theory,” Vortex replied as he kicked Starscream’s feet apart. And oh, the Winglord was not pleased by that. He began struggling in earnest, pulling against his bonds and desperately flapping his wings. Vortex had to duck several times as he tightened the chains around Starscream’s ankles, keeping his legs spread wide.

     “Damn you!” Starscream hissed in desperation. “I’m not a fragtoy!”

     Vortex paused, his hand hovering just behind the apex of the flier’s thighs. “Calm down, Screamer. I don’t like you like that,” he said with an unseen smirk. Despite his reassurance, his hand slipped between Starscream’s legs and cupped the red panel covering his interface array. Vortex chortled to himself as his fingers encountered heated metal, the edges slippery with lubricant.

     “Ah ha! I thought so. You’re getting revved up!” Vortex accused, more than a little delighted. “Torture turns your crank, huh?”

     “No!” Starscream protested, hunching his pelvis forward in an attempt to dislodge Vortex’s touch.

     “Kinda hard to ignore the evidence,” Vortex said in a sing-song voice, removing his hand and wiping his fingers on Starscream’s cheek. He cheekily grinned at his patient, and the flier glared at him, optics practically spitting sparks.

     “Not… not torture.”

     Vortex took a step back, crossing his arms over his chest and raising an orbital ridge. “No? Then what’s got you leaking, Winglord? Is it my sparkling personality?”

     Starscream closed his optic shutters, resting his cheek against the table. “It’s not… you wouldn’t understand.”

     Vortex studied the other mech for a moment before stepping back into Starscream’s space and pressing himself against the flier’s side. Optics locked on Starscream’s now startled face, Vortex dug his talons into the nearest cut on the outside of one red hip. The Seeker attempted to jerk away.

     Vortex huffed irritably and transferred his touch to the middle of Starscream’s closest wing and repeated the action. This time, Starscream’s optic shutters fluttered and his ventilations caught, even as his body fractionally shifted backwards towards Vortex’s hand.

     “Only the wings then,” Vortex mused, digging in again to confirm Starscream’s reaction.

     “Stop it!” the Seeker moaned. His energy field swirled around Vortex, rippling with barely repressed embarrassment.

     “Nothing to be ashamed of. Wings are wired to be sensitive; doesn’t take much for pain to be confused with pleasure,” Vortex replied sensibly. “My rotors, for example. Give me a few hard bites along the edges and mmm… I’m there.”

     “You can’t… please don’t tell him,” Starscream whispered after a moment, field shrinking in on itself. The Seeker’s optics brightened as he gave a full body shiver.

     Vortex knew terror, and it was staring him right in the face. Starscream’s fear was well-founded. If Megatron discovered a mech’s weakness, he ruthlessly used it to his own advantage. Vortex wasn’t quite sure what the Decepticon leader would do with this information, but it wouldn’t be good for Starscream, that was for sure.

     “Can’t lie to him. Not if he asks,” Vortex replies, shivering himself as his loyalty coding twitched at the very idea. “But I don’t see any reason to tell him, especially when he just asked me to keep ya out of the skies for a bit. So, hey, can you overload from this? From this alone?”

     Vortex slipped his fingers under a wide cut and began pulling on the plating, moving Starscream’s whole wing in short little tugs. The flier groaned, the sound slipping free in a relieved burst of sound as if glad he didn’t have to hold it in anymore.

     “I don’t… maybe. Never went that far,” Starscream said, panting slightly.

     “No?” Vortex asked, raising an orbital ridge in surprise. “No one else knows about this?”

     “The trine know I like my wings handled roughly, but nothing to this extent. It would… it would horrify them,” Starscream admitted. “This much damage…”

     Vortex returned to his original position at Starscream’s back, gently stroking over the torn and stained wings. They quivered under his touch.

     “… it’s beautiful,” Vortex said reverently. “You up for a little experiment?”

\--

     Vortex hummed to himself, optics blinking lazily at the mess of Starscream’s wings. No inch of plating had been left untouched. What was once white was now either stained with energon from his blades or charred black.

     Oh, Starscream had lived up to his name under the use of the electroprod. Under its highest settings, Starscream had vocalized so loudly that Vortex’s audials were still ringing. But the Winglord hadn’t once begged for relief. He had certainly begged; the litany of ‘please, please, dear Primus, please!’ had made Vortex oblige Starscream over and over again.

     He reached out, reverently stroking the still smoking hole the prod had so recently been shoved into. Starscream moaned weakly when Vortex’s finger explored the edge. He then jerked in his bonds when Vortex leaned in and ex-vented a puff of warm air beneath the plating, lipping at an exposed wire.

     “How’re feeling there, Screamer?” Vortex asked, murmuring against the torn plating. A sharp edge cut his upper lipplate when he spoke, and he shuddered as a drop of energon welled up. He lapped it up, squeezing the upper edge of Starscream’s left wing before draping himself against Starscream’s side again. He rested his head on the table next to the flier’s and watched Starscream’s optics slit open.

     His lips moved slightly, as if trying to speak, but no sound emerged other than a faint hiss of static. Vortex purred happily and snuggled in closer, his rotary blades quivering.

     “You look good,” Vortex whispered. “Limp and raw and bleeding. I could just eat you right up.”

     Starscream’s face was so open. The tight lines of arrogance had melted away into a slack sort of bliss, one that Vortex had put there. It made pride well up inside him and his spark twirled happily within his chest. It was one thing to break a mech, get him to spill all his secrets. That brought Vortex its own type of joy.

     But this was new. This was pleasure within the pain, something no one else had let him try. Oh, some partners had said they wanted him to hurt them, but that desire was short-lived once Vortex truly got going. They always tapped out when the energon really started to flow. But Starscream had just begged for more. Begged with masked words and a flare of wings for Vortex to wreck him.

     It had certainly been Vortex’s pleasure to do so.

     He was floating high, his charge transcendent past the physical. Oh sure, his interface equipment was primed and dripping; Starscream’s was too. His spike had been smearing pre-fluid all over the table for the last hour and lubricant was forming a small puddle between his feet.

     But this was more than that. This was elation and ecstasy, exultation to the extreme. The only thing better would be to take to the skies, push himself high and then cut his engine into free fall. That plummet to the ground always made Vortex feel so alive. This was much the same, but he didn’t just have himself to think of. There was Starscream here with him too, the two of them trapped together in that downward spiral.

     Vortex leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to Starscream’s lips. The Winglord didn’t protest; in fact, he leaned into the contact and Vortex released a shaky ex-vent into Starscream’s mouth.

     “You’re so beautiful,” Vortex murmured, one of his hands returning to the tip of Starscream’s wing. The other hand squirmed between Starscream’s thighs and gripped the hot, slicked spike throbbing there.

     Starscream’s optic shutters fluttered and then closed.

     Completely unacceptable.

     Vortex dug his talons into the underside of Starscream’s spike and the Seeker’s optics shot open as his lips parted in a pained cry.

     “Don’t do that,” Vortex commanded. “Look at me. I want you to know who is breaking you.”

     “I… I know,” Starscream croaked as Vortex’s hand loosened. His fingers formed a loose circle and he started sliding them up and down Starscream’s spike, the Seeker’s hips rocking into the slow strokes.

     “Do you?”

     Vortex dug his talons into the abraded forward edge of the wing in his grasp and Starscream cried out.

     “No, no, no,” Vortex chided as Starscream’s face scrunched up tight. “Keep looking at me. That’s it. Right at me. When you overload I want you staring right into my optics.”

     Starscream’s wing trembled beneath Vortex’s fingers. “… visor.”

     In answer, Vortex released Starscream’s wing and reached for the visor, ripping it off and tossing it aside. It clattered as it landed on the floor, no doubt now smeared with energon. “Is that better?”

    Starscream sighed shakily in relief as Vortex’s magenta-colored optics were exposed. His spark throbbed as Starscream looked at him straight on, expression one of naked need.

     “Yes. Please…?” Starscream begged, wing arching forward and presenting itself to Vortex.

     He grabbed it without looking, digging his claws in again and squeezing. Starscream arched his back, helm lifting off the table as he bit his lower lip. He kept staring at Vortex, blinking rapidly as he fought off the urge to shutter his optics.

     “That’s it, gorgeous,” Vortex crooned, squeezing his handful of mangled wingtip in time with the stroking of Starscream’s spike. “I want you to come for me. Come for me just like this. Broken and torn. Oh, but don’t you worry, my Winglord. I’ll take care of you. I’ll clean you up and treat the worst wounds.”

     Starscream’s ventilations hitched, and his spike swelled within Vortex’s grip. Both wings trembled, the opposite twitching freely. Vortex leaned in even further, pressing their forehelms together. Their optics were only inches apart, the air between them hot and damp from their heated ex-vents. He was tempted to taste Starscream’s lips again, but this was more intimate. He had a frontrow seat to seeing Starscream fall apart.

     “I want you to heal,” Vortex whispered urgently. “Quickly and completely. I want you pristine, so I can do it all over again. Our little secret, Starscream. Just you and me and my tools.”

     Starscream stiffened, optics spiraling down to near pinpricks and then irising wide open the next second. His spike jerked and then began to pulse, stripping Vortex’s table with silvery transfluid. Even better was the keen that started out soft and thready and spiraled up into a full-bodied wail as Starscream overloaded hard.

     His wings flapped involuntarily, Vortex’s talons digging in even harder to keep the one closest to him stationary. Something tore; hot, thick energon poured into Vortex’s palm and he groaned as some of it began to spill over, trickling down his arm.

     “That’s it, that’s it,” Vortex murmured, pressing even closer to feel every spasm and twitch of Starscream’s frame. “There you go. There’s that freefall. Just let go, Starscream; I’ll catch you.”

     Starscream’s cry choked off into staticky sobs and he struggled against his bonds, leaning towards Vortex. The Seeker’s gaze remained fixed on Vortex’s face, Starscream’s bright crimson optics staring at him almost desperately.

     Vortex gave Starscream’s spike one last squeeze and then released it, flicking his fingers to get the excess fluid off. He dug his claws out of Starscream’s wing and held it up, drawing back a little so that the flier could see the fresh drops of his energon coating Vortex’s fingers. He reached out and gently stroked the side of Starscream’s face, smearing the still warm liquid over his delicately arched cheek.

     “That was beautiful,” Vortex said, gazing at Starscream with a little awe. Who would have thought Starscream…annoying, screechy Starscream… could be so stunning? So captivating that Vortex couldn’t look away even to give himself his own release.

     It was no secret that Vortex got turned on inflicting pain. And it was certainly demoralizing to those he was interrogating if he overloaded in front of them, or Pit, on them. But there was no purpose to that with Starscream. Vortex was more concerned with getting to the next stage of his plan for Starscream than to waste time wanking himself off.

     Starscream shuddered, slumping forward despite the screech of metal against his cockpit. “Th… thank you.”

     “Oh, my pleasure, pretty,” Vortex replied whole-sparkedly. “Now let’s get you down from there, shall we? I did promise to help fix you up, after all.”

     Vortex eagerly pushed off from Starscream’s side and proceeded to loosen his bonds. The ankle bindings were easy enough, but as soon as Starscream’s arms were released, they dropped to his side, his entire frame threatening to sag to the floor. Vortex wedged a knee between Starscream’s thighs and shoved up against his back, blindly unhooking the chain around Starscream’s hips.

     “Can you walk?”

     Starscream’s only reply was to tilt to the side, nearly falling out of Vortex’s grasp. Snorting mostly in amusement, Vortex wound his arms beneath Starscream’s and around his chest. He heaved and started dragging Starscream backwards.

     The Winglord was roughly the same mass as Vortex, but taller and more slender. He wasn’t someone Vortex could easily carry, even if he wasn’t injured. Nevertheless, Vortex managed to get him over to a cleared corner of the room and lowered onto his abdomen. Despite the lack anything soft cushioning his body, Starscream’s frame went limp with a pleased sigh.

     Vortex stood up, twisting from one side to the other until his back strut cracked satisfactorily. “Heavy glitch,” he commented. “Don’t go anywhere. Gonna get some things to clean you up.”

     One would think he wouldn’t have medical supplies on hand, but in fact he was as nearly well stocked as Hook. Some of Vortex’s patients were particularly stubborn and endured weeks of interrogation. During that time, they had to be kept alive and in some functioning order. Which meant he had plenty of disinfectant, cleanser, and topical ointments.

     He gathered up an armful of supplies and then carried them back to Starscream’s side, dropping them into a messy pile. Starscream watched him with heavily lidded optics, expression serene despite the multiple wounds dripping energon. Vortex paused before leaning over the other mech, peering down into Starscream’s face with a puzzled frown.

     “Are you… are you purring?” Vortex asked, a little surprised. Jet engines didn’t really rumble in a contented way, but somehow Starscream’s were managing it.

     Instead of speaking, Starscream merely blinked and curved his lips up in the smallest of smiles.

     Vortex didn’t do sweet. But something in his spark twinged almost painfully at the sight of Starscream looking so peaceful. When had Starscream ever looked peaceful? And Vortex had done that. Through a whole lot of pain and a judicious use of pleasure.

     He could get used to this feeling spreading out from his spark and suffusing his frame.

     Very used to it, indeed.

 

~ End


End file.
